


Bedtime Stories

by theRadioStarr



Series: Tumblr Drabbles and One-Shots [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5337938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theRadioStarr/pseuds/theRadioStarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian and Da'Adahlen Lavellan are relaxing before bed, while Dorian reads some old bedtime stories from his childhood. </p>
<p>Stories used are Andraste & the Wyvern (WoT: V2, Chapter 6, page 207) and Mir Da’len Somniar (WoT: V2, Chapter 6, page 217). </p>
<p>These stories belong to Bioware.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime Stories

“ _And Maferath was ashamed that he had given in to fear despite Andraste’s words. He drew his hand along the blade of his sword, spilling his own blood and adding it to the wyvern’s. At this, the beast nodded once in acknowledgement, and then vanished as swiftly as it had appeared.”_

Dorian finished his story and took one hand from the pages of the tome in front of them to run his fingers through Da’Adahlen’s hair. They were laying on the couch together in front of the fire in the Inquisitor’s quarters. Dorian was holding the book on Da’Adahlen’s stomach, his arms wrapped around the elf lazily where he lay on top of him.

There was silence between them save for the crackling of the fire for a whole minute before Da’Adahlen spoke up. “Wait, that’s it?  _That’s_  the end of the story?” He sat up an inch or two to try to look back and up at Dorian. “That’s the worst story I think I’ve _ever_  heard.”

“I’m sure Sister Marigold would be thrilled to hear that from you, Dahl,” Dorian replied dryly. “Most children stop paying attention at the mention of wyverns, anyway.”

Da’Adahlen settled back into Dorian’s chest with a wide yawn. “Well, at least these stories work. One more before bed?”

Dorian smirked and bent down to press a kiss to the top of the elf’s head. “If you insist,” he teased, but his hands were already turning the pages, looking for one passage in particular that he knew would impress the sleepy elf on his chest.

He never found it, but he didn’t need to. It had been a long time since the practiced words of the  _Mir Da’len Somniar_ had fallen from Dorian’s tongue, but he began to speak anyway, the words heavy but familiar as they spilled from him without prompt.

 

“ _Ellgara valas, da’len_

_Melava somniar_

_Mala taren aravas_

_Ara ma’desen melar_

_Iras ma ghilas, da’len_

_Ara ma’nedan ashir_

_Dirthara lothlenan’as_

_Bal emma mala dir_

_Tel’enfenim, da’len_

_Irassal ma ghilas_

_Ma garas mir renan_

_Ara ma’athlan vhenas”_

“ _Ara ma’athlan vhenas_ ,” Da’Adahlen finished for him, awed. He pushed the book shut and took it from Dorian’s hands, placing it on the table between them and the fire before turning onto his stomach to face him. “I was unaware that you were so well-versed in elven lullabies.”

Dorian could feel heat rising slowly to his face. Dahl had a way of demanding an answer without ever having asked a question; it was some spark behind his eyes that threatened to set you aflame.

Dorian had never been very successful with cold magic in the past.

“Well, I…” Dorian huffed in frustration. “I used to read it to the slave children, and teach them and their parent’s how to read with it.”

Da’Adahlen’s eyebrows shot up. “You did?”

“That was always the last one I would read to them, yes,” Dorian muttered quickly, hoping to get past this embarrassing episode.

But Dahl wouldn’t stop just  _staring_  at him.

“Is there a particular reason you’re looking at me like I’m carved in marble? That comment about my profile  _was_  a joke, you know… well, mostly,” Dorian flustered.

“You used to read to the slave children. Teach them and their parents how to read.”

“Yes, I did. I thought we’d been over this? You’re usually much quicker on the uptake than this, Dahl, are you sure you’re feeling – _mmmph_ -”

He’d been effectively silenced by Da’Adahlen’s tongue down his throat.

Well,  _this_  he could follow, at least. His hands snaked up Dahl’s back until one found the back of his neck, pulling him down as close as he could as he tilted his head to deepen their kiss.

Dahl moaned into his mouth when he did, and pressed his hips into Dorian’s roughly. They continued that way just long enough that Dorian could pretend the entire previous conversation had never happened, but when Da’Adahlen finally pulled away, gasping, it seemed  _he_  wasn’t content to let it lie.

“I have to admit, Dorian, that your explanation of slavery made a lot of sense, but when you said your family treated them well, I didn’t really believe you,” Dahl admitted.

“Whyever not?”

“Well, what the slave considers to be good treatment is vastly different from what the master considers the same,” Dahl explained to him. Dorian nodded at him understandingly. Of course he would think that. “But to hear that you taught your slaves to read… that you read to them  _yourself_ before sending the children to bed… what did your parents think of you doing that?”

“I believe they’re still unaware,” Dorian answered. “And I  _am_  sorry to not be there for the next group of children that are inevitably living there already, but – well,  _I_  taught their parents,  _and_  their grandparents. They’re in good hands.”

Da’Adahlen rolled off of Dorian, standing next to the couch and holding his hands out to help Dorian up. He took them, and then allowed Dahl to lead him over to the bed, where he was promptly pushed back onto the mattress.

“Well, Dorian,” Dahl purred slowly as he stood over him, and Dorian was smart enough to stay exactly where he was, “I seem to have gained an immense amount more respect and admiration for you.”

“Is that so? I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Me either,” Dahl told him. “Now, how  _ever_  am I going to show you just how much…?”

Dorian sat up abruptly and pulled Dahl down on top of him. “Oh, I have a few ideas, if you’re open to suggestions.”

Dahl chuckled in his ear and nibbled softly at the pulse in his throat. “I am  _so_ open.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this piece well before I had a solid grasp on Dahl's personality, so this is incredibly out of character for him. I still adore the piece, though, so I had to include it.


End file.
